


Tidings Of Comfort

by ominousrum



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9797540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousrum/pseuds/ominousrum
Summary: For now things are quiet – no big bads to defeat, no mysteries to solve. They need these moments to catch their breath, limbs wrapped around each other.





	

Emma Swan wants nothing more than to hibernate, her pirate by her side, cuddling under the coziest blankets she can find. Killian Jones definitely does not object to this, braving the winter chill now in the air to bring them both takeout from Granny’s diner and keeping a hot mug of cocoa at the ready. 

For now things are quiet – no big bads to defeat, no mysteries to solve. They need these moments to catch their breath, limbs wrapped around each other. His chin rests perfectly atop her head as she snuggles into his chest, watching whatever takes their fancy on Netflix. More often than not she falls asleep listening to his heartbeat.  

The holidays are fast approaching but Emma prefers to ignore most traditions. She flat out refuses to sing along to any Christmas carols despite Henry’s goading. Killian chuckles as he points out some of the more _artistic_ variations he’s heard throughout his many years, earning him a chastising slap across the arm. 

Fortunately she’s done most of her shopping online, collecting her parcels in an impressive hoard in the hall closet. _“Bloody hell Swan, are you magicking these packages from a land called Amazon?”_   

So the hibernating can mercifully continue well into December. 

They’ve promised to spend Christmas day with her parents et al; her father claiming to cook them the best roast dinner they’ve ever had. But Christmas Eve she’s managed to keep for herself, to hold onto the one tradition she treasures. She hopes her pirate will learn to love it (she grins when she thinks of the years she will get to repeat this with him). 

“It’s long,” she begins, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Pizza and spiked eggnog is their dinner of choice tonight. The eggnog makes it _festive_.

“Longer than that time we watched a season of that blonde vampire-killer?” he asks, biting into a particularly cheesy slice, strings clinging to his beard. 

“Well, no. It’s long for a movie, though. Over two hours.” She’s loathe to leave the warmth of the sofa but she needs to fish DVD out of the pile gathering dust on top of the TV. 

“I’m sure I can last that long, love,” his assurance punctuated by the most obvious wink she’s ever seen on his handsome face. 

She raises her eyebrows, smile impossible to hide.

“I just- I hope you like it. It’s one of my favourites, I watch it every year I can on Christmas Eve.”

“I’m honoured to be a part of one of your traditions, love.”

The opening music swells and she reaches instinctively to make sure there are tissues nearby. 

“It’s very grey, isn’t it?” he whispers to her hair. 

“It was made before they had movies in colour. Now shhh!” 

He does his best to keep silent (though she’s so absorbed, she barely notices his huffs and grunts of appreciation) but one scene breaks his silence. 

“Bad form, George!” 

“Killian-“

“I’m sorry Swan but the little lad just wanted his father’s help to spell a word!”

“I know but shhhh.” She winds an arm tighter around him.

***

 

She’s positively bawling throughout the last scene, humming along softly to Hark the Herald Angels Sing, as she hears him start to sniffle. 

Killian Jones, self-proclaimed badass pirate, is welling up at the sight of a little girl in the arms of her father.

“You alright?” she asks, pressing a hand to his chest. 

“Aye,” he mutters, blinking tears away. 

“I always cry and I’ve seen it dozens of times.”

“It’s just- little Zuzu,” he gestures his hook to the screen helplessly. 

“Yep.” 

“And Clarence!”

“I know,” she says, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I think a stronger eggnog is in order, Swan.”

“Definitely,” she heads to the kitchen, returning with mugs holding a good 60% rum. “After this I do believe it’s time we put your earlier claim to the test, don’t you?” The lick of her lips puts his wink to shame.

“Here’s to new traditions, love.”


End file.
